Glimpses
by A Mad Man With A Box
Summary: Just short little drabbles, mostly from the new series. "I just feel like I'm forgetting something."... "Have you got a pen?" ... "How many more?" ... "What is the point of you?" ... "He needed a canvas and some paints."
1. Painful Words

Rose was trying very hard to concentrate on her book.

It was an interesting book too, she didn't often find interesting books in the TARDIS library, since most of it was quantum physics and the geography of the Xenofila IV galaxy, but the TARDIS herself had supplied Rose with a completely non-alien English novel which she'd just been getting into. But the Doctor was strolling around the console flipping buttons probably just to look impressive, and rambling on about something. Usually Rose attempted to listen for a few seconds before zoning out, but this time, she wasn't even trying to listen but his words kept floating over to her.

"…and so then I said to Henry Ford that of course he couldn't build that car out of glue, I often don't interfere with inventors, but his idea was just so-…"

She gnashed her teeth, bringing the book closer to her face, as if that would block out the rambling Doctor. Her eyes darted over the words but…she'd read that sentence before, hadn't she?

"…I mean, of course the intergalactic pig was _legal_ and everything but-…"

She took a deep breath, letting it out in a sort of grumpy snort, which the Doctor failed to notice. She finally digested the previous sentence and moved onto the next one: _The black wolf stood out utterly against the snow, but it wasn't trying to be stealthy with its advance on them anyway…_

"…Juklo wasn't at all happy with that, but who would be anyway? It was in the ancient scripts that the black hole would swallow up that dwarf star and I could have told him at the time it would do that anyway, but he didn't pay any attention so…"

_The black wolf stood out utterly against the snow, but it wasn't trying to be stealthy with its advance on them anyway, it just approached leisurely in plain sight…_

"…So good old Isis was stuck without her pyramid because the Yaxleys 'hijacked' it, so to speak. You should have seen the fit she threw, Rose, it was the funniest thing but then of course…"

_The black wolf stood out utterly against the snow, but it wasn't trying to be stealthy with its advance on them anyway, it just approached leisurely in plain sight, knowing they wouldn't try to run. And they didn't._

"I mean, come on, as if Gikla would have stood for that kind of rebelliousness anyway—OWW! Rose, did you just throw a book at me?"


	2. Just You Wait

"Just you wait, Donna, it's going to be _magnificent._ The sun never sets, and never rises past the horizon line, throwing a glow over the water. It turns the white spray golden while the waves ripple and sparkle. The sand is flawless, it doesn't scrape against the bottoms of your feet, but it doesn't stick to them either, it's the purest of whites, white as snow even. The breeze is cool and refreshing on your face, carrying to you that slight salty tang that comes with the ocean, and the trees sway gently and there's not a soul around because no one knows it exists, except me."

The Doctor spun and twirled around the console as he told Donna of the beach they were to visit. Lately, the red-head had been complaining endlessly of all the marshes and rain-soaked hills they'd been visiting, and demanded a beach or an oasis. The Doctor had swallowed and nodded hurriedly, catching the dangerous glint in her eye, and recalling the yelling that would begin if he refused.

He pushed down a lever with a flourish, and they landed.

Donna rushed to the doors, eager to see the beach the Doctor had been describing. She flung open the TARDIS doors open and stepped out. The Doctor heard a squelch noise and frowned, it was quickly followed by Donna's piercing yell.

"DOCTOR!"

He inwardly cringed and wondered what he'd done this time as he strode to the doors. He was about to step out of the TARDIS when he caught himself by grabbing hold of the doors. They'd landed at the edge of a swamp, apparently. A lovely, deep, glutinous swamp. Donna wiped some of the slime out of her eyes to glare up at the Doctor.

He swallowed.

"Ah. Well…"


	3. Forget

_Amelia stepped back, tucking a red strand of hair behind her ear, and admired her work. He pouted in front of her and crossed his arms, careful to avoid the tie that hung down almost to his knees. She'd had to roll up his shirt cuffs several times over just so they wouldn't flop down over his hands and his trousers were hitched up to mid-chest. He blew some of his fringe out of his eyes to give her the full strength of his glare. _

"_Why did I have to dress up like this?" he asked huffily._

"_Well, who else is?"she replied._

"_That's not what I mean. I mean, why do you have to dress someone up like this?"_

"_I have to remember the Raggedy Doctor. I don't want to forget him." she answered simply._

"_Oh, of course, the Raggedy Doctor!" he yelled. "It's always the Raggedy Doctor. Why can't I just be me, Amelia? Why can't it just be you and me, instead of you and the Doctor?"_

"_Because…"_

"_Go on. Say it."_

"_He's more interesting."_

"_Well, if he's so interesting, you'll never forget him will you? But I'm plain and boring, I'm just me. Does that mean you'll forget me?" _

"_No!" _

_She sighed._

"_I won't forget you. No matter how boring you are," she grinned for a second before her face became serious again._

"_I promise."_

"Amy?" the Doctor was frowning at her concernedly under the bright lights of the TARDIS console room.

"Hmm?" she replied, not quite there.

"Are you alright?" he asked, still staring at her, looking for a sign that she was hurt or troubled.

"I'm _fine_, Doctor," she assured him, rolling her eyes at his concern.

He moved away to fiddle with some buttons and she unfolded herself from the jump seat. She stared up at the time rotor and watched as it took her to new and unknown places.

"I just…" she began.

"What is it?" he asked instantly, coming back around the console to her side.

"I just feel like I'm forgetting something…"


	4. Canvas

He needed a canvas. And some paints.

He bit his lip.

He turned on the spot, once again just _seeing_ everything in the circular room.

It wasn't the strange clothes he saw.

It wasn't the little devices which people were constantly drawing from pockets.

It wasn't the hairstyles. Or the mannerisms.

The people might not have been there at all.

It was just him and the paintings.

The paintings, such effort, such pain. But such joy too. Such accomplishment.

He needed a canvas. And some paints.

They were framed with the most delicate of frames.

The descriptions next to them. The flattering words, the admiring undertone.

The warmth of the room, the celebratory air. The smell of rich knowledge and achievement.

He breathed shakily. A strange flutter in his stomach, or maybe his heart.

He felt like he'd swallowed paint himself, his mouth caked and dry.

His fingers itched for a brush.

His eyes began stinging. No. Not here.

It was too late.

The first tears were already falling, his face crumpling along with it.

No.

He needed to paint. To paints his feelings and emotions into something before he lost them. He needed to express his feelings into something creative before they escaped.

He needed a canvas. And some paints.


	5. Empty

"No."

Amy just stared at the dust as it shifted into a pile on the floor. The floor of the nursery.

"No. Come back." The utter lack of emotion in her face was terrifying.

The Doctor stood just a few steps away, eyes stinging just that little bit and face lost and hopeless.

Amy looked up at the Doctor.

"Save him." She held a certain trust in her face, knowing he could bring Rory back. He was the Doctor. There was hope…

The Doctor didn't answer.

"You save everyone. You always do."

There was still that hope there, that belief.

But…she didn't know yet.

Of course he'd saved many people in his time, but he'd lost countless others.

She didn't know about the past. About Gallifrey. The burning and the falling, and so much lost. And for what?

"That's what you do," she continued, still staring up at the Time Lord. Believing in his ability to make everything alright again.

"Not always," he breathed.

Her eyes lost the light that they'd held. The hope. They were just empty. Not harsh.

Just…

Empty.

"I'm sorry," he said pointlessly, as if his apologising would consolidate her.

Her eyes didn't break contact with his as she leaned forward slightly, a colder look forming in them now.

"Then what is the _point_ of you?"


	6. Belief

This drabble is part one of a three part series...

* * *

"_How many more? Hmm? How many more can you take?"_

_The voice was cold, sneering, deriding him. _

"_Do you remember them all? Do you remember the way they sacrificed themselves, without a moment's hesitation?"_

_The words circled him, like a serpent._

"_How long do you hesitate before a decision like that?  
Oh, but it's all empty words isn't it? You say you'll sacrifice yourself for the good of humanity, or for your friends, but secretly, you want someone else to step up like a lamb for the slaughterhouse and beg you to let them die instead."_

_He tried to shake his head. To deny it all. But either he couldn't move or he had no physical form at all._

"_They believe you to be this wonderful thing don't they?"_

He snapped back into consciousness. Whether he'd been asleep or awake and just blanking staring, he had no idea.

There was a feeling of breath on the back of his neck.

He swallowed.

His fingers twitched at his side. He breathed. He ran a palm over his face. Trying not to turn around.

"If only they knew," it laughed.

He snapped his head around.

But there was nothing there.


	7. Distracted

Part Two

* * *

Amy knocked once on the half-open library door to announce her presence.

The Doctor was sitting in one of the many armchairs surrounded by unstable piles of books, all of them dusty thick novels. They looked like boring books in Amy's personal opinion.

"You alright?" she asked when he didn't look up from his book.

He just nodded, head down, eyes darting across the page ever so rapidly.

"What is it?" he asked, knowing she wouldn't come to the library just to ask if he was alright.

"What you said about the Dream Lord being you-"

"-Is irrelevant right now," he interrupted. "The real question is: is Rory okay? After, well…you know…" his changing of topic appeared to distract her.

"He's…fine," she finally answered after a silence.

"He didn't even know, Doctor. He wasn't even aware of how…" she continued talking, and it wasn't that the Doctor didn't want to her what she had to say, but he just couldn't.

He had to keep reading. Keep himself distracted. He wasn't having qualms about falling asleep as of yet, but they would come in due course. For now, he had to keep his mind busy, so he carried on reading, while using a miniscule section of his brainpower to nod or frown at all the right places in Amy's rant.

Finally she left after asking him if he wanted tea or fish-fingers or something, forgetting what she'd originally come to ask him. He'd declined, while wondering how distracted Amy herself was not to remember what she'd come for originally. Usually, his attempts at diverting her attention didn't work whatsoever.

He kept reading.

But he found he was reading the same sentence over again.

He kept reading.

But he found he was reading the same sentence over again.

Then, unconsciously, he began reading without taking in the words whatsoever.

It was only a few minutes later, when the Doctor was about to give up altogether and find something else to occupy his attention, when Amy burst through the library doors.

"No. No, no, no no. That's not going to work on me, Doctor."

"Amy, I'm trying to read," he gestured to the piles of books. "If you would…"

"No, Doctor. You never answered my question," she pressed, half-smirk adorning her face.

"Amelia!" he said warningly, still futilely trying to read.

"Doctor you can't just pretend you didn't answer my question."

"_Amelia!_"

She took a step back. Face shocked. Her smile gone. She swallowed.

His voice. It was…

No.

"Do you _really_ think that I care?" he drawled in _that_ voice, his expression contorting to one she thought was gone forever.

"Do you think my purpose, my _point, _if you like, is to answer your petty and pointless questions? Do you know who I am? What I've seen? What I've done? How many people I've killed and how many lives I've twisted?"

She took another step back. She shook her head, but it wasn't in answer to his questions.

"Good. Now leave, Amelia. Leave this poor old man to sleep. To dream."


	8. Rewritten

Part Three

* * *

It wasn't a dark place. But then again, it wasn't light either.

The Doctor hadn't been backed into a corner.

But there was the feeling of being compressed.

Of being forced out of his own head.

* * *

He laughed gleefully and slightly manically as he spun around the console.

He pressed a succession of buttons before turning to the screen as it spat out information for him.

He looked up at the ceiling of the TARDIS. Knowing that finally…

Finally…

It was his.

* * *

There was a presence in his head.

Or maybe he, the Doctor, was a presence in _his_ head.

The other one.

He felt bound and tied by his own memories as the other one spread his arms out wide and got comfortable.

* * *

Amy came strolling into the console room.

She stopped and frowned at him.

"What?" he questioned flatly.

Her mouth twisted into a grimace at his tone of voice.

"What have you done?" she asked, staring at him not unlike the way she'd stared at the old version of him in the nursery.

"What have you _done?" _she repeated.

"And where's the Doctor?"

* * *

He looked up.

He moved forward, shuffling forward in the infinite space.

He tried to look out of the windows.

But they didn't belong to him anymore.

* * *

"_I'm_ the Doctor," he answered, forcing himself into a smile.

"No. You're…"

"Go on," he pressed, staring unblinkingly into her eyes.

She didn't answer, just bit her lip and looked at the floor.

"That's what I thought," he muttered, turning his attention back to the TARDIS console.

* * *

He gritted his teeth.

If he had teeth.

Maybe even they didn't belong to him anymore…

No.

He tensed his shoulders and pulled on his bindings.

He fought back.

* * *

He was about to press another button on the console when his finger stopped itself.

"No," he whispered.

Amy cast her eyes up and watched as he seemed to struggle with himself.

"DOCTOR!" she yelled, hoping that maybe, he could hear her.

"_No_, Amy. I'm in charge now."

He'd triumphed.

* * *

At least he'd tried.

* * *

"Now. Now it begins," he murmured.

He twisted a dial, and instantly the TARDIS began to shake and jolt around.

Amy was hurled to the glass floor.

He looked down at her for a second and then turned away.

She raised herself on one arm and stared up at him again.

"Where are you taking us?"

"Oh, just you wait, Amelia Pond. Just you wait."

* * *

He was slumped, suspended in his bindings of memory that had betrayed him.

But he had to know what was going on.

The _other_ presence happily showed the Doctor, delighting in his contorted expression of hopelessness.

* * *

The scene began to stretch.

Colours flooded and gushed into each other, forms and objects turned two-dimensional, Amy herself felt like she was fading, or shifting maybe.

He just laughed.

He just stood at the console and laughed and laughed.

* * *

"No."

* * *

Amy heard the time rotor spinning and turned to him, face stiff with cold.

"What are you doing now?" she asked, as he twisted something on the console.

"Me? I'm going to blow up the TARDIS," he said bluntly.

"What?" blurted Rory.

He continued to move around the frosted-over console, the words he was supposed to say echoing in his head, _notice how helpful…_

He ignored it, rewriting the scene _his_ way.

He continued to press buttons and pull levers, laughing away to himself.

"Docto-" Amy stopped herself, frowning.

"What have you done?" she asked, her brain confused with the old memories of what had just happened, and the new ones piled on top.

Had Rory just woken up? Or had _he_ just taken over himself?

"No, you can't do this!" Amy went up to him and clutched his poncho…except…it wasn't a poncho. It was his regular old suit.

She looked down at herself, where her frosted poncho should have been, and instead found just the regular clothes she'd been wearing before.

He grabbed her hands and detached them from his suit lapels, throwing her to the floor with a disgusted expression on his face.

"Doctor!" Rory yelled, rushing around the console to Amy.

"I'm not the Doctor," he snarled.

"And since when did that old man ever heal anyone anyway? Since when could he rid people of disease and infection?" he asked, hand poised over a lever.

"No, he's no Doctor," he laughed to himself, hand gripping the lever now and manic smile adorning his face.

"He could never be rid of me."

And pulled the lever down.

* * *

In case that didn't make sense -

The odd numbered sections are the Doctor, and the even ones are the manifestation that has taken over the Doctor.


	9. Cracked

"You got a pen?" Amy asked as the Doctor retreated down below the console.

"Make sure it's a red pen," was his only reply.

She made her way over to the jump-seat to check his suit jacket pockets.

She rummaged through a few pockets before her fingers closed around a small velvety box.

Amy pulled it out to discover it was a box for a small piece of jewellery.

She frowned at it, wondering how and why the Doctor had such a thing in his pocket.

She opened it gently, to happen upon an engagement ring.

Visions flooded her brain that lasted for a second and a million years.

* * *

_Amelia ran through the field, laughing joyfully._

_She glanced over her shoulder to see him stumbling along behind._

_She stopped and held out her hand._

"_Hurry up!" she called. "The monster is going to get us!"_

_He hastened towards her, almost tripping over his trouser legs as he did so. The tie swung left and right with every step, and the hair, which she'd forced him to side-part, flopped into his eyes._

_He finally caught up with her and clutched her hand. She just laughed and dragged him onwards._

_

* * *

_

"_Amelia, how about no tie today? No tattered shirt? No Doctor?"_

_She didn't look very thrilled at this idea if he was honest with himself._

_He sighed and picked up the tie she was holding out._

_

* * *

_

_Amy grabbed his hand and began to follow the Doctor._

"_Hang on," he said, stopping her._

_She turned around._

"_What are you doing with that?" he asked, holding up her hand where the ring rested._

"_Engagement ring. I thought you liked me wearing it." Amy replied._

"_Amy," Rory said, "you could lose it. Cost…a lot of money, that."_

_Amy removed the ring from her finger and handed it to him._

"_Spoilsport," she muttered before turning back to follow the Doctor._

_

* * *

_

A shiver ran up her spine like an electric current as she looked up and away from the red box.

There it was again.

She closed the box with a snap, giving the nightmarish sight her full attention.

It spread across the TARDIS wall, flooding the console room with light.

The light spilled out and reached for her.

Called to her.

She took a step forwards, leaving the red box on the console.

She didn't look back.


	10. Scarf

Amy shivered as she walked one of the many hallways of the TARDIS. The Doctor always kept his time machine just _slightly _too cold for her liking, and now, at the end of the day, with the Doctor in the library somewhere reading and no one else for company, it felt colder than ever.

She made her way to her room only to discover that the clothes she'd let build into a pile on the floor had disappeared.

Frowning, she made her way to the library, still shivering slightly.

"Where are my clothes?" she asked, approaching the Doctor with hands on her hips.

"I don't know, where are they?" he replied, not looking up from his book.

"Not in my room," she said shortly.

"Well you must be wearing them then," he concluded.

She looked down at her shirt and shorts.

"Doctor, I am _definitely_ not wearing all the clothes I brought."

"If I recall," he said, still not looking up, "you didn't _bring_ any clothes to the TARDIS except for your nightgown, which hardly counts at all."

She shot him a glare, though he took no notice.

"Fine then," she said tersely. "The _wardrobe's _clothes. Where are the clothes I got from the wardrobe?"

"In the wardrobe."

She spun around to the library doors and muttered about why he couldn't have told her that in the first place.

"And turn up the heating, would you?" she shouted over her shoulder as she left.

* * *

She trailed a finger lazily through the endless racks of clothes.

The clothes she'd collected from the wardrobe originally when she first stepped onto the TARDIS were lying in a pile on the floor of the wardrobe room.

It wasn't correct to call it a _room_, she thought, it was more of a wardrobe _area_, so large and expansive you couldn't see the walls on either side.

The clothes racks had no particular order at all, it seemed, judging by the fact that she found outlandish alien garments hanging alongside the most ordinary of t-shirts, which made it very hard for her to locate any thick woollen jumpers or a scarf to keep the cold out.

She was about to give up as she walked past seemingly endless rows of battered Converses in cream, black, and burgundy colours respectively and then a battered leather jacket hanging all on its own, when she came across the scarf.

She removed it from a coat hanger and slung it around her neck, picking up a tasselled end and running it through her fingers. She let the end drop to the floor and it brushed the ground as she walked.

She collected the rest of the clothes in their pile and dumped them back in her room before returning to the library.

"I found all my clothes," she said as she approached the Doctor still sitting in the same chair.

"Good, good," he replied distractedly, nose in some other book now.

"You haven't turned the heating up have you?" she asked, observing how his feet were resting in the exact same position as they had been before.

"Well…no," he admitted to his book, not looking terribly sorry about it. "But you see Amy, the reason being is that Piooux wrote this extremely interesting equation involving the mass of black holes relative to their gravity field," he looked up, about to launch into some rant about it, but then stopped.

He frowned at her, placing his book atop the pile of novels in his lap.

"Is that my scarf?"


	11. Trapped

SPOILERS FOR 5x12 'THE PANDORICA OPENS'

* * *

The walls pressed in on all sides.

The Doctor could hear the Alliance talking amongst themselves, their voices muffled by the ancient box.

He tensed up and tried to lift his arms but the cuffs held them down.

"Listen to me!" he yelled, craning forward against the bindings to try and find a crack* through which to see.

"Everything will be erased if you don't let me out!"

He fell back into his seat, chest sore from where it had been pressed up against the metal band across his middle.

"You can't…" he murmured, more to himself than them. "You can't just leave me here…"

"You need…to let me out."

He tried again, pressing forwards once more.

"Just let me out, I can help you. We can solve this together, I promise. We can work it out. We can. Together. The ultimate alliance. The universe working _with_ the Doctor to solve this. I can help you. But you have to let me out. The TARDIS is…"

They took no notice.

He sighed.

His hair flopped into his eyes as he bowed his head.

"No."

He strained against his holdings again, heaving dry sobs and thrashing about.

"YOU. NEED. ME!" he screamed.

At least, he thought they did.

But did they need him?

Did they really?

* * *

*Pun intended.

I love the fact that the title of 5X12 sums up pretty much the whole episode.

Thoughts on the episode, anyone?


	12. Conquered

SPOILERS FOR 'The Pandorica Opens'

This is sort of a sequel, or a continuation on Trapped.

-nodnod-

* * *

"Listen to me! I can help you. I can help you all. But you have to let me out. Just…please…let me out of here."

The Doctor sighed and slumped back into the metal seat, no longer straining against his metal bindings.

"_Please…_" he beseeched, eyes screwed up and fists clenched.

Words descended on him, filling the air with their menacing tone.

_Why should they let you out?_

The words circled him like hissing serpents, ridiculing him.

_What have you ever done for them? Hmmm?_

He didn't answer, merely gritted his teeth and flashed his eyes around the box, but knowing the source of the words couldn't be seen.

But that didn't mean it wasn't in the box with him…

_You think you can rule the universe with fear, do you?_

_But they are not afraid of you. _

_They are merely afraid of what you will do. Afraid of the lives that will be lost if you have control._

_You deserve your fate._

He swallowed. He took a breath through his nose and let it out through his clenched teeth.

He glanced over at his index finger, cuffed to the armrest like the rest of his hand. He raised it and pointed, before wiggling it. He breathed a sigh of relief as he did so.

He still had control.

For now.

The voice just laughed. A sound so mocking and full of contempt that he shuddered.

But then he realised the laughter was coming from his own mouth.

He tried to stop himself. To clamp his mouth shut. But he carried on laughing, his mouth involuntarily twisting itself into a smirk.

"I'm in control now," he found himself saying.

"Listen! Just listen for a moment!" he yelled, his voice so different, so cold, that the conferring that had been going on outside the box ceased immediately.

"I have saved myself. Gone are my dreams of hope and courage, which slaughtered many of your kinds. Gone are my _ridiculous _plans, which I'd made myself believe would do good."

He was smiling that twisted smirk, knowing that everyone was listening to him.

"I have killed so many. I have done so much damage. Now, I claim responsibility for this. Gone are the days when I could convince myself that I was free and innocent. I am _guilty_."

He couldn't stop himself, and in his head, he could hear the laugh again. Echoing against the walls of his skull.

"So free me. Free me. And then think of all the _pain_, all the _loss_, the _chaos_ I have brought upon your souls and your friends. Think of this. And kill me."

He could hear footsteps coming towards the box.

He tried to fight, snarling and screaming but he was silenced.

"Kill me."

And he laughed again.


	13. Author Note SORRY

Yes, I know this isn't a chapter, I am terribly sorry.

I just wanted to say that I won't be writing anything on The Big Bang, as of yet, because apart from the fact that I know a lot of people haven't seen it yet, I just don't _want_ to.

Like, I feel that it was an amazingly good episode and so there is nothing in it I want to change or feel like I could give justice to by writing it.

If you really want me to write a particular scene in it, then tell me and I will, but now, I just don't feel that a certain scene stood out and that I should write about it, because I felt they were all brilliant.

But yeah, you can most definitely ask me to write something and I will, by PMing me.

So I will keep this story open and in-progress for that reason, and if I suddenly feel like writing something, I'll probably write it here if it's from the new series, but otherwise I won't and it'll just be uploaded as a separate thing.

I really am sorry that this isn't a chapter, I know I get really annoyed when people upload these and I think it's a chapter and am then crushed when I find out it's not.

So, yeah…

Also, I'd find it hard to keep updating this regularly because I'm returning to Shards of Shattered Roses as of next week, which requires so much effort and time, you just wouldn't believe.

If you give me an idea from Big Bang or any other episode, I will write it up for you.

Bye =D


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